


Hurry Up And Wait

by 19thcenturyfox



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Dragon Age: Inquisition - The Descent DLC, F/F, Fluff, Hearing Voices, Hive Mind, Telepathy, Titans (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19thcenturyfox/pseuds/19thcenturyfox
Summary: Lace finds Valta in the Wellspring with some help from a forgotten friend.
Relationships: Lace Harding/Valta (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2
Collections: 2020 A Paragon of Their Kind Dragon Age Dwarf Exchange





	Hurry Up And Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuffypelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuffypelly/gifts).



Scouting’s a straightforward business. The terrain changes, but the mission stays the same—you see things, you don’t get seen. Sometimes you get seen, you take note of what you didn’t see and where they’re shooting from. Most of the time, it’s a lot of ‘Hurry Up And Wait.’ But scouting’s also about hearing things without being heard, and right now Scout Harding could hardly believe her ears.  
  
Or rather, her eyes. She refocused the spyglass and resumed observation; Lace didn’t make a habit of surveilling her employer under normal circumstances, except—well, they were all so damn attractive. Malika, Varric, Vivienne, Dorian, and lately _Valta_ —it was an overdose of gorgeous.  
  
 _Dagna didn’t grind these lenses for ogling_ , she scolded herself. But something wasn’t right. Twice now she’d read Valta’s name on Malika’s lips muttered conspiratorially to Varric out of earshot from the rest, while the Shaper herself was nowhere to be seen.  
  
A chill ran through the typically-unflappable dwarf. _Haven’t seen that look on the ‘quisitor’s face since_ —since when? She struggled to recall. Young man with a hat… _Co—onnor? No…_ the memory flew from reach like a fever dream.  
  
She shook it off and crawled from her concealed position down the cliff to the rendezvous point. When the Herald’s party arrived, her debriefing was brusque:  
  
“Valta’s been possessed by the Titan. We tried to bring her back to camp but she attacked us using magic, then fled into the Wellspring. I need you to find the Shaper and return with her location, or—” she fixed her with a hard look, “news of her fate. We’ve come too far to leave this stoping unstulled.”  
  
 _No…_ Lace grit her teeth and snapped-to. “Your worship.” _No, not Valta_ …  
  
The mission had changed. Scouting’s a straightforward business, but it wasn’t the only job she was asked to do. “News of her fate” was a euphemism for murder—somewhat less straightforward. Lace wasn’t queasy about killing but she preferred to leave assassinations to Leliana’s agents. For the first time in her life, she doubted her ability to complete the task.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Valta took stock of her surroundings. The Wellspring sang to her like no place she had ever known. That familiar tremble once absorbed through hands and ears now hummed within her blood, ringing in her heart a warning gong:  
  
 _Return_ .  
  
Sha-Brytol gathered wordlessly around the Shaper; two emerged bearing the body of Lieutenant Renn upon a litter and laid him at her feet.  
  
 _I should be crying_ , she thought. But he looked so peaceful in this second death. Valta touched his cheek and smiled. _Soon we’ll rest together in the Stone_ .  
  
She examined the masked faces that encircled her. They appeared to do her bidding, but what that bidding was she could not say, nor could they comprehend it if she spoke. _These thoughts are not my own_ … A troubling revelation.  
  
It troubled her how little she was troubled by it.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Scout Harding descended the Wellspring. The landscape presented unique challenges to movement, observation, and concealment; there was only one point of egress, and good luck mounting a reverse slope defense where ambush can come from every direction at once. Fortunately, Lace enjoyed a challenge.  
  
 _Why so shy, fellas?_ Not a Sha-Brytol in sight. She tucked the spyglass in its pouch and twitched instinctively for her shoulder. _Fuck. I miss my bird_ . The scope was great but it couldn’t take a message or peek around corners.  
  
She considered her next move. _I really should have taken Sarka_ . Scouts typically work in pairs, but these caverns had already claimed two of her trackers, and Lace would not risk losing any more.  
  
 _Oh, where have you gone, Valta?_ Sweet, beautiful, possibly single Valta. Lace sighed, recalling their many conversations after that chance encounter in the Warrens. Under the guise of due diligence, she must have asked the Shaper a thousand questions about her research. Lace would happily listen to a smart, sexy woman talk about her passion for hours.  
  
“Have you ever wondered why we don’t dream?” Valta had asked her the last time they spoke.  
  
Lace shrugged. “Not really.”  
  
The Shaper gazed into the distance. “The Song in the Stone isn’t just an echo, it’s more than a tremor of this beating heart we’ve found. I think,” she looked at Lace, “I think maybe we are the living dreams of Titans—if my interpretation of these carvings is correct. We weren’t severed from the Fade the way that Chantry scholars say, we’re... _made out of it_ .”  
  
This took a moment to process. “So that’s where baby Sha-Brytol come from?”  
  
Valta pursed her lips. “Perhaps. It’s possible they’re simply ageless. They don’t appear to eat or drink, it seems the lyrium sustains them.”  
  
Lace lingered in that memory, studying the Shaper’s smile on the eve of her last expedition. Suddenly her blood ran cold—a stranger studied her from over Valta’s shoulder. _Young man with a hat_ …  
  
“Cole,” he spoke in answer to her unasked question.  
  
Harding rolled and spun to face her interloper. “Don’t move!”  
  
He didn’t. As far as she could see, there was no one there.  
  
“I’ll be your bird,” said the voice in her head.  
  
 _Wwhat—??  
  
_ Suddenly the stranger smiled weakly from another memory—Solas and the Herald in some heated argument at Skyhold. Cole sat in the courtyard unperturbed and tipped his hat.  
  
“I’ll help you find her.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The ritual failed. But it shed light on other paths.  
  
Renn wasn’t coming back, but he wasn’t going away either. She’d always taken the Return as an allegory for death, but what the Sha-Brytol had shown her was another way of living in the Stone. The source of her new powers didn’t lie beyond some veil, they were the veins and sinews of the earth itself. The Lieutenant wouldn’t be joining her just yet, but at some point, inevitably, they would all return. _And the Wellspring must be pure_.  
  
“Atrast tunsha. Totarnia amgetol tavash aeduc,” she said over the body.

  
 _Goodbye, my coalsprout. May you always find your way in the dark_ .  
  
  


* * *

  
  
 _Think, Lace, think_ . Insanity Checklist: Poison Darts? Negative. Bad Rations? Negative. Hallucinogenic Spores? … _Plausible. Let’s go with that_ . _You probably inhaled some weird mushrooms_ . She looked around. _Wait here until you’re lucid_ .  
  
“You refer to yourself in the second person?”  
  
 _Who ARE you??_  
  
“Cole.”  
  
 _Yeah but do I fucking KNOW you? What the FUCK are you doing in my head?_  
  
“We’ve met,” he said, leaning next to the gate at Haven.  
  
 _Well can we unmeet, please?_  
  
“We’ve done that too,” he said from Skyhold.  
  
Bit by bit it started coming back to her. “Get the fuck outta here,” she muttered aloud.  
  
“I will,” he said apologetically, “but first you need to find Valta.”  
  
 _I don’t need your help, thanks_ .  
  
“Oh, no, you really do,” he insisted. “Look through your spyglass at the base of the column to the right.”  
  
Lace grumbled as she did so. Adjusting the lenses, she scanned the area. Cole waved at her from a small opening in what appeared to be a dome made from dead Sha-Brytol. _What The Fuu_ …  
  
“You need to talk to her,” he said. “She can’t hear me over the Song, but she’ll listen to you.”  
  
“Is she…” Lace recalled the nature of Cole’s aid at Skyhold. _Is she dying?_  
  
“No,” he said. “She’s changing.”  
  
Cole stood up and walked over to the memory of Valta smiling at Lace just a little too long in the firelight.  
  
“And she’s lonely.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“A treachery of light. A quiver with the bolts of time. In the curving of forever we will hold together through the void. In the fate made flesh. We will wall the weary in the Stonewomb. We will—”  
  
“VALTA!”  
  
Cole stepped silently, permitting Lace into the chamber.  
  
“Lace!” Valta stammered in shock, examining her surroundings as if for the first time. She was partially encased in Lyrium. “Oh no… oh no, no, oh Stone, what have I done…”  
  
“Valta, you’re going to be all right, I’m here to help.”  
  
 _She cannot stay here. She is impure_ . No. No, this was the wrong path. “Oh Lace, I’m—I’m sorry, I can’t go back with you.”  
  
Lace shook her head. “I know, I know—Malika sent me to kill you, but that’s not why I’m here. Listen, I talked to some of Renn’s Legion buddies, and—”  
  
 _Renn_ … the Shaper looked down in horror. The crystalline bonds that held her in place began to loosen, but shimmering cords of light still tied her heart to this blue cluster. “No...” _She cannot stay here_ . “Lace, you have to leave.” _The Well will soon be sealed_...  
  
Lace took a deep breath and channeled that Scout charisma Cole had assured her would knock the Shaper’s socks off. “Look, I’m not gonna budge on this. You’re too beautiful to be… turned into a golem or whatever the fuck this is,” she huffed. “If there’s a damsel in distress here, it’s yours truly, because if Cadash doesn’t have me killed, this fucking Mercy Demon might.”  
  
Cole tipped his hat, still standing in the breach. “There’s still time,” he said, then casually turned around. “I’ll hold the door for you. You won’t even know I’m here.”  
  
Valta’s eyes filled with tears as she studied the surface dwarf’s freckled features. _How could someone so bright and lovely be impure?_ The cords of light between her and her dead friend did not dim, but some new bond was being forged between the Shaper and the Scout.  
  
“Lace,” she smiled, “I’m so happy to have met you.”  
  
“Yeah, ha. Me too. Hey,” she perked an eyebrow, “You wanna go on a date?”  
  
Valta leaned and brushed a stray hair from Lace’s forehead. _Two weeks ago you came here with a sunburn_ . “I have to stay here, Lace. And you have to go. But—” she stepped free of the crystal structure, “not just yet.”  
  
Lace sighed. “Of course,” she nodded. “Scout Harding, at your service.”  
  
The Shaper laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Lace, you never talked about yourself,” she said, transfixed by the light in those kaleidoscopic eyes. “I want to hear all about your adventures on the surface.”  
  
“Oh well, scouting’s a straightforward business," Lace replied. "Most of the time," she grinned, "it’s a lot of Hurry Up And Wait...”


End file.
